There is a place, not far from Gissing Street,
In Paradise, where one can dream and laugh
You go through Shelley Lane, striking your staff
Upon the cobbles, turn with eager feet
Down BenÊt Place, and there you are! I'll meet
You, Christopher, and we shall quarrel and quaff
Our pewter tankards full of Shandygaff,
And eat and eat and eat and eat and eat!
And must we die first? Well, it's worth the trouble
I shall go first, because I'm old and gray,
And permanently I'll reserve a booth—
And when you come, no doubt I'll see you double,
And as you land from Charon's skiff I'll say:
“Here, kid, taste this! Roll this upon your tooth!'